The Lights Go Down Chapter 11 point 5
by eyrianone
Summary: Bonus 'M' rated chapter. Goes with the story 'The Lights Go Down' at the end of chapter 11, and pre-chapter 12. Dedicated to Purplangel.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The lights go down - Chapter 11.5.  
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**Summary: Bonus 'M' rated chapter. Goes with the story 'The Lights Go Down' at the end of chapter 11, and pre-chapter 12. Dedicated to Purplangel - she knows why.**

**Author: eyrianone**

**Rating: M - duh**

**A/N: If you haven't read the story this goes with 'The Lights go Down' this won't make a whole heap of sense. And forgive the cheesy last word - blame KB, she totally made me do it. I'll go hang my head in shame now . . . M rated fiction - oh boy!  
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><p><strong>Bonus Chapter: Post chapter 11 – pre chapter 12.<strong>

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><p>Somewhere in the back of his mind there is a silent litany of apologies that he's mentally sending to her. Sorry this is going to be fast . . . sorry this is going to be upright . . . sorry but this isn't going to be gentle . . . sorry this doesn't involve romance and silk sheets and gentle worship. Sorry this is all about need. Sorry this out of control.<p>

Seriously out of control, because he has none. There's an almost animal need that's taken charge of his body and absolutely nothing that his civilized self can do about it.

He's wanted her too long.

Beckett is crammed between himself and his living room wall, forced up onto her tiptoes as he kisses her hungrily. He knows his partner is strong and combat trained but she feels tiny in his arms right now – a slender reed he could break if he's too rough with her but though he's very aware of her size it only fuels his desire more.

He breaks from taking her mouth to attack her neck, biting her rather than kissing her, branding her pale skin with his teeth and then soothing it with his tongue. Kate's fingers are entrenched in his hair as she offers more of her skin to him, the gasps escaping from her, the way she pulls his head closer to her – tells him that at least she isn't complaining.

Because she could easily stop him if she wanted too – he knows this – which is just as well the small thinking corner of his brain reasons - because he knows he can't stop this – what he's about to do – he couldn't stop it if he tried.

She's wearing too many clothes – damp clothes at that and the author pulls back enough to strip the upper half of her clothing from her body by yanking everything over her head.

He swallows harshly at the sight of her heaving chest – the black lacy bra, and so much Beckett skin he is momentarily forced to shut his eyes – God. He opens them again and finds himself staring at the slightly puckered bullet scar between her breasts – and his already elevated heart-rate kicks another notch higher. That bullet almost stole all of this from him – all this flushed skin and aching need and suddenly any more delay is just . . . unthinkable.

He kisses her again with apologies on his lips this time and the sting of tears in his eyes. He vaguely hears her 'ssshhhing' him and then she's kissing him back just as fiercely, but he wonders fleetingly if she comprehends just how desperate he now is. The scar – the reminder – the last twenty-four hours and he's on fire right now – he's just burning from within. Castle forces her back against the wall, can't even find the good grace to wince as her shoulders collide with the plaster. He keeps her there by the sheer strength of his kiss, both his hands going to the fly on her pants, the greedy fingers of his uninjured left hand finding their way inside.

Kate cries out – a needy breathless exclamation that sounds suspiciously like his last name, as his knuckles graze the dampness saturating her underwear. The heat of her against his wandering digits is scorching, so he pushes the barrier of her flimsy panties to the side and buries his fingers in her – swallowing her cry of surprise on his tongue.

His partner is wet and again the writer's eyes slam shut. Kate is seriously wet, her desire for him is coating his hand now and he can't contain his delight, groaning it into her mouth, as he feels himself grow harder in response - the ache in his groin becoming almost unbearable.

He has to be in her. Now. Five minutes ago would have been even better, but . . . he just pushes at her jeans, not caring about the sudden excruciating pain in his injured hand as he creates the minimum nakedness on her part that he needs.

He can feel her fingers against his stomach, busy at his belt buckle, and then she's mirroring his actions as she shoves at his jeans, pushing them over his hips, cupping him through his boxers, her hand stroking him all of twice before he's forced to push it away.

Anymore of that and he'll come – which he wants . . . needs to do, but inside her . . . it's his only thought now – get inside her.

Ignoring the pain now throbbing in his right hand he lifts her up, bracing her against the wall because though her jeans are tangled around her shins now, he's not stopping to remove them any further and except for her knees either side of his waist she cannot wrap her legs around him.

It seriously doesn't matter – this isn't exactly going to take long.

Her arms have wrapped around his neck, against his mouth she's whispering, pleading with him, and desperately urging him on.

"Now . . . now . . . please . . . now Castle . . . please . . . please."

He takes himself in hand, and then his bright blue eyes are boring into hers, one sure movement of his hips and . . . he takes her.

Slick and scalding heat envelops him and there's nothing he can do but move so he brings them together over and over until Kate's head slams back against the wall, a shrill keening cry echoes in his ears as he feels the intimate clench of her all around him.

"Oh God – Castle."

Moments, quick, frenzied, half-dressed dirty moments and Kate Beckett's coming apart around him and he's swears nothing – nothing has ever felt this good. He's seriously – he's dangerously close now, his movements are erratic, every thrust of his body into hers throwing her harder against the wall. He never wants it to stop but he's about to come, about to spill within her and it's this image that finally short-circuits his body. He bites down on her shoulder through the spasms – so hard there's a spot he actually breaks the skin – but by the shivers of ecstasy still thrumming through her he doesn't think Kate even cares.

They sink as one onto the floor, a heap with her in his lap, their foreheads touching, gasping for breath into each others sweat slickened faces.

"Kate . . . are you alright?' Sated, the red haze of their need dissipating, the chivalrous gentle side of him is becoming concerned.

But then she raises blissful, radiant eyes to look at him. He's never seen such joy on her face.

"Alright? Rick I'm . . . amazing . . . just, I'm so amazingly happy – that was . . . "

Relived he hasn't hurt her, the writer manages to grin.

"Quick?" He offers.

"I prefer passionate." She counters. "Beautiful in its way – because I've never felt needed like that Castle . . . never. God it feels so good . . . to be here like this – with you."

He leans into to kiss her – gently this time, no edge. "To be mine." He tells her.

Kate nods. "Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**I seem to remember I promised more 'M' - after the wall that is. So this would follow that - and be before Chapter Twelve finds them the following morning.  
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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven point seven-five: <strong>Hold on for all you're worth.

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><p>Eventually they move from their spot, slumped against the living room wall. Castle lifts Kate up and off of him, smiling shyly at her as he helps her tug her jeans back up the endless length of her slender legs. Once she's clear of him, he struggles to his feet, legs a little shaky, right hand throbbing and happier – more relaxed than he's felt in years. He shakes his head wryly as he tugs his own pants up, zipping them closed before he risks looking in his partner's direction again.<p>

He's about to suggest they head to the kitchen – finally get some much needed nourishment into the pair of them, but then Kate pushes herself back into his arms, wrapping him up tightly and burying her head against the wall of his chest. He wonders fleetingly if anything is wrong, but then a contented sigh escapes her and the author realizes she's just enjoying the moment by holding him close to her, and his arms wrap themselves around her shoulders as he drops a kiss onto her hair.

"Let's go to bed." She mumbles into his chest. "Please Rick . . . let's just go and crawl into bed – so we can take our time with each other."

He's surprised and instantly aroused that she wants to have at him again so soon – after all, what they just did wasn't exactly gentle – in fact he was decidedly rough with her. That thought arouses him still further, his blood rushing back to his groin and suddenly the forty-year old writer feels more like his teenage self than he would have believed possible. He shouldn't be recovering this fast – it's kinda obscene – but he isn't about to question it.

He tips her face up so that he can see into her autumn eyes. Need looks back at him, raw and decidedly ragged. Love colors the plains of her face, devotion hovers on her lips and he bends to kiss her, fanning the glowing sparks of their desire back into a raging inferno. He breaks the kiss mere moments later – gasping.

"Are you sure . . . we don't have to rush this . . . rush anything – Kate." He breathes the words across her lips.

All she says is, "I need you again."

She isn't lying.

She twines her fingers in his and leads him towards the stairs, climbing them ahead of him as she tugs him up behind her. At the top she throws him a look over her shoulder.

"Which way?"

He steps around her, their hands still entwined and leads her to the end of the corridor, through double oak doors into the houses master bedroom.

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><p>Kate gasps softly as she looks around. The seriously huge bed should dominate the room but it doesn't because one entire wall of his room is nothing but glass. Beyond that is a spacious balcony, beyond that a view of the beach the ocean and the still raging storm that momentarily steals her breath.<p>

Then she looks back into Castle's face, into his impossibly blue eyes and everything else just falls away.

Her nimble fingers unbutton his shirt; push it over his strong shoulders and down the length of his arms. Once she's freed it from him she just lets it drop – already forgotten - onto the floor. He's got a t-shirt on underneath, so Kate slides her hands under the bottom, revels in the way the muscles in his abdomen jump as the palms of her hands scoot up and across them. His skin is hot, smooth, when she reaches his chest it's almost hairless and she pushes the shirt on and upwards, almost ripping it over his head.

She can look at him now. Look and appreciate because she's never seen him shirtless before.

He's a big man. He looks larger without the shirt, more powerful. She's aware that's he's stronger than she'd given him credit for, their exploits against the living room wall downstairs have already taught her that – but now that she can really see him – his strength is evident. His shoulders are broad lines, his arms are heavily muscled and his chest is literally like a wall – solid, everything about him is solid. She can see the shape he could be in, and where's he's softened around the edges – but it does nothing to dim the attraction he commands of her – of any red-bloodied female, because he remains innately masculine. Undeniably beautiful.

His eyes are dark with lust – his face drawn and quiet as he waits to see what she's going to do next. Beckett trails her fingers slowly across the expanse of his skin, and his eyes fall closed around a sigh of pure pleasure. She reaches the waistband of his jeans, his belt has remained unbuckled so all she has to do is pop the button and tug on the zipper. Then she steps into him, kissing him over his heart while her hands wander across his shoulder blades and into the back of his pants. She pushes them over the curve of his backside, greedily groping him, cupping the firm muscle in her palms before she encourages his jeans to fall down the thickness of his thighs.

Kate drops to her knees and Castle must sense it because his closed eyes fly open – the sight one he isn't prepared to miss, her on her knees before him. She smiles smugly, looks up at his flushed face through the veil of her eyelashes, tugs her bottom lip between her teeth deliberately and delights when he groans.

Despite the significantly lowered register, she can still hear the whine in his voice.

"Keep torturing me Beckett . . . see how long this lasts if you do." He warns.

She smirks softly, full out giggles inwardly. God she loves him. She loves everything about him . . . having him at her mercy like this almost most of all – this being his – really being his now and knowing that he'll always be hers – there is such strength to be drawn from that. It gives her such a firm place to stand.

His jeans are puddled at his feet, and as she tugs so he lifts first one foot and then the other so that she can rid him of them entirely. She kneels up, but doesn't return to her feet as she follows suit with his underwear, and last his socks.

He's naked now - gloriously so. Kate maps his body with her eyes, commits the topography of him to her memory so he's only ever a recall away, before she returns to her feet, and watching him as he watches her she sheds her clothes.

The skin against skin contact makes them both gasp when she steps into his waiting arms and the long lithe length of her comes to rest against him. A possessive hand comes to rest on the back of her head and before she can form another thought his mouth is hot and urgent on hers, his tongue sliding inside and seeking her out, forcing her into a heated duel.

Damn he's a good kisser. Down right masterful in fact. He seems to know exactly how much pressure to exert, how much tongue is just enough, his kiss is drugging, urges compliance, and promises forever. There is no way she could ever get enough.

She can taste his love for her in her mouth, as she wraps both arms around his neck, almost jumping into his arms so he can carry her to the bed – lowering her onto the rumpled surface before her follows her down.

Her thighs fall open around his waist as he shifts to place her beneath him. She can feel the hard length of him against her right thigh and suddenly she feels empty without him – is almost desperate for him to slide inside her again – to fill her, make her feel complete.

Kate tugs on his shoulder, moves sinuously beneath him trying to get him to comply but a fairly evil grin colors his face as he holds her down, revels in the sight of her breathless, needy and nude before he moves down her body, wedging her thighs wider as his shoulders settle between them.

She wants to watch but the sight of him there, such focused determination on his face is almost too much for her to bear. Her eyes flutter closed and she fights to open them again, but her eyelids feel like lead, like they're welded shut – and then his sinful mouth descends and she loses the battle completely. Just the sensations are killing her – no way can she watch him, at least, not this time.

Long ecstatic moans fall unbidden from her lips – her body bucks under the onslaught of his tongue and his lips, and then his strong fingers get added into the mix and she starts trembling, knows it won't be long before she starts begging.

Too good. Oh – it's too, too good.

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><p>Kate tastes sweet he's decided, and a little tart on his tongue, her flavor is complex – just like she is. She's delicious; he suspects this might prove addictive – just like everything else about her, and he's lost in pleasuring her right now. His whole world has narrowed to her taste in his mouth – her smell tangled in his brain – her whimpers and her soft gasps for more. Her thighs are trembling, her inner muscles tightening as her peak approaches, he's about to back off, to stretch it out, but then he hears her . . . hears her calling to him.<p>

Castle lifts his mouth barely a fraction, enough to look up at his partner's gorgeous face, her expression twisted, mouth just about forming words.

"Please . . . make me Rick . . . oh God – _so close_ . . . let me . . . Castle please let me come."

Her voice is strangled and pleading - he cannot resist it – or her, he lowers his mouth again, curls his fingers inside her. Applies more force, just the perfect amount of friction and pressure – sends her over – smugly satisfied as her body flutters wildly while she sobs his first name.

He's up the bed in flash, gives her no time to recover before he slides into her wet heat, her body still rippling with aftershocks as he starts to move – slow – deep – deliberate.

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><p>She'd come back to herself if she could, she would - but he doesn't give her the time – joining himself to her before her peak is even really past. Kate's mind splutters, her body bows, he bends her almost in half and she's grasping for purchase as she feels him building her up again as he rocks into her – over, and over.<p>

He has her strung taught in moments, pleasure so acute it's verging on painful and it goes on, and on . . . and on.

She feels more vulnerable than she's ever felt as her eyes open, searching out the twin blue flames that make up his gaze. It's just so much – so much, Castle's love – his devotion to her – his need of her, his desire . . . the blatant lust – the absolute longing – his face is as naked to her as his body is – and she tightens around him automatically in response. She cannot deny him now – will never be able to deny him again – he's made her raw – laid her open – filled her to the brim and she's . . . his . . . she's his.

"Come for me again." He commands, and it seems she has only to hear it – his voice – and her body complies.

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><p>She let's out a keening cry, and Castle gasps – she's like a fist, so tight around him now, his movements lose their finesse, he just slides into her over and over and he can't stop it as he tightens and spills himself – can't hold anything back as he pours into her – collapses on top of her.<p>

His face buries in her hair, and the writer breathes erratically, reaches for some remaining strength as he rolls them so he can haul her close. He pulls her half on top of him as he folds her onto his chest, breathless, exhausted, sated . . . hers.


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